


Three's Company, Too

by Fudgyokra



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 13:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12037173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: It was weird at first, since there were three of them there. Bruce thought that Joker might have hesitated with Clark in the room, but this was not so.





	Three's Company, Too

**Author's Note:**

> Uh oh, I accidentally wrote SuperBatJokes. :} Anyway, drunk me couldn’t be bothered to specify that Bruce and J were in an established relationship at the start of this and sober me couldn’t be bothered to write that in until the end, so…keep that in mind. Also, again, edited hastily.

He couldn’t remember if it was two or three bottles of wine later that they started this game, alert to the electric surges going through the skin at each other’s touches, before it got serious. It was weird at first, since there were three of them there. Bruce thought that Joker might have hesitated with Clark in the room, but this was not so. Instead, this seemed to egg the man on, and he grinned with glinting teeth at the Kryptonian while his hands wandered obviously over Bruce’s thighs.

“I don’t know about you,” Joker slurred, “but I think it’s about time we retire to the bedroom for tonight.”

Bruce set his mouth in a line and looked at Clark, whom he expected to object or find some way to excuse himself. Instead, though, he was looking back with the corner of his mouth caught between his teeth and his eyes hazy, blue and dark and shining beneath the rims of his glasses.

That should have been the first warning sign.

Bruce only chuckled, sure it was a joke simply going over his head. “I don’t know,” he began lightly, “I think I could go for another bottle. I’m only sort of drunk.”

“Sort of?” Joker asked, flabbergasted. “I stopped feeling my fingers and toes, like, an hour ago.”

Clark and Bruce shared a private smile, then the former spoke. “We’re not nearly as susceptible.”

“Way to rub it in,” Joker muttered, somewhat distracted by Bruce’s arms.

Bruce rolled his eyes. Clark smiled sweetly. “Sorry,” the latter said, “I just assumed you knew.”

“Way to put it out there,” Joker said with a snort. Presently, Clark flushed, red and ashamed.

“I _am_ sorry. I’m not used to…human alcohol.”

“Implying that you’ve had non-human alcohol?” Bruce teased, bringing a surprised smile to the other men’s faces.

“Is that a joke from the Bat?” Joker asked, smiling wickedly, as he tended to do. “Oh, my.”

Clark shrugged. “He’s not always so dark,” he admitted. “In the office, he’s quite kind. Strange, but kind.”

“I’m strange?” Bruce asked, flashing a debonair grin at Clark. “Says the alien.”

“Not nice,” Clark said, although he laughed at the accusation.

It wasn’t long after that that Clark’s mouth was on his, putting Joker on the edge of the couch in a drunken, pouting stupor. “I’m the one who suggested…” he started, then trailed off at the viciousness with which Bruce captured Clark’s mouth, plundering like he owned both Clark’s body and mind. The latter allowed it, tan skin going pink around the cheeks and ears in a handsome fashion that the other two admired. Being pale themselves, it was less of an attractive pink and more of an obvious red on their faces.

“How anyone could resist you is beyond me,” Joker admitted with a wistful sigh. He leaned his chin on Bruce’s shoulder and regarded Clark’s embarrassed expression with glee.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, rubbing at the stubble on his chin with a lack of interest he did not intend to direct Bruce and Joker’s gazes toward.

Animalistic attraction couldn’t have been the only excuse for the way Clark pressed his lips against Bruce’s neck, prompting Joker to dip a hand into Bruce’s waistband in a battle for his attention. “I was here first,” he said with a proud smile as Bruce grunted in surprise right between his and Clark’s mouths.

“I’ve been around long before your time,” Clark argued, tilting Bruce’s head away from him to attach his mouth to the other’s jaw.

Bruce was breathing shallowly now, absorbed in the attention.

Clark and Joker looked at each other with twin smiles. Although Joker’s was more predatory and Clark’s was more boyish, it was the same sort of idea with which they were both struck.

“Brucie, baby?” Joker asked, voice saccharine sweet. “I have an idea.”

* * *

 

In later moments, with thoughts formed in a clear state of mind, Bruce would have been sorely embarrassed at the way he reacted, with knees and elbows digging into the mattress, to Clark thrusting into his mouth and Joker claiming him from behind.

It wasn’t typical of Alfred to allow them to lock themselves away in the bedroom without supervision, but Bruce had made it clear (painfully so) that they desired something of a non-violent nature. Tomorrow he would pretend he didn’t remember.

He considered himself the paragon of strength, but in this moment, with his pelvis tight and his eyes screwed closed, trapped between a wall of muscle and blazing blue eyes on one end and a marble figure of pale skin and red lips on the other, it was hard not to crumble.

Bruce bit back a groan as Joker rocked forward, hitting something in him that made his body overheat and his abdomen tighten.

Clark’s mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape, a purely innocent expression contradicting the action he was performing, rolling his hips forward until the base of his shaft met Bruce’s lips, gagging him with the organ he presented and reeling with pleasure at the fact.

Joker, for his part, tried not to finish too quickly. He was biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, finally allowing himself this carnal pleasure he’d long sought after. He was bucking hard now, forcing himself in deeper and drawing muffled groans from the vigilante hero’s mouth. If this wasn’t the perfect way to exact revenge, he didn’t know what the answer should have been.

“Fuck me” Joker muttered, halfway a joke and halfway an expletive.

Clark regarded him with pupils blown and jaw tense. His face was hot and his chest was heaving, muscular arms flexing as his fingers curled and uncurled in Bruce’s mussed hair. Joker bathed in the pleasure from this look of defeat.

Bruce, a naturally-quiet type, did not have much to say. It was almost endearing, the way his eyes rolled back in his skull with the ecstasy.

Joker did not expect Clark to move back and put his fingers in Bruce’s mouth, but the way Brue took the bait like a starving animal made him harder than before.

“God,” he muttered, watching as Bruce’s wine-numbed lips suctioned around Clark’s index and ring fingers, “I’m happy with my end, but I still can’t help but be jealous of you, Supes. That pretty, proud face, kneeling in submission to me…”

Clark looked embarrassed and docile, despite himself. “I—I wouldn’t say that,” he told him, having trouble making eye contact with Bruce, whose electric gaze was glued onto him like a reverent follower of a god.

“Sure you would,” the vigilante quipped.

It wasn’t that he spoke often, but the way Clark’s cock returned to its rightful place and shut him up was still Joker’s reluctant undoing.

With a breathy curse, his nails dug into the small of Bruce’s back, and he bowed over him like a curving willow, fucking him hard enough in the last few seconds to make tears spring to his eyes.

Bruce cocked his hips forward in desperate search of release, and Clark, patient as he was, was able to pull out and take control of himself before painting Bruce’s face, grazing his pink cheeks and swollen, panting lips with pearls of cum.

Joker huffed from the other end of the bed, pupils eclipsing his irises as he looked at Clark head-on. “I say,” he began with conviction, “we go again.”

Clark reddened. “Again?”

Bruce panted into the air between them, lips hovering centimeters away from Clark’s spent cock and legs spread wide for the man behind him, whose hands were still gripping hard enough to leave bruises on his hips.

“I don’t know,” Clark hesitated watching Bruce wipe his face with the sheets, leaving just enough doubt in his words for Bruce to get his hand around his tender length, stroking with careful, deft strokes and capturing his mouth like a man on a mission.

“Way to leave me hanging,” he mumbled against his mouth.

Joker grinned. “I think we have a verdict,” he said, sharp teeth bearing down on Bruce’s shoulder as the man in question wrapped his free arm around Clark’s shoulders and bucked forward, creating friction enough to ignite a spark within them both.

Clark’s bitten lips couldn’t seem to resist the pull of Bruce’s gaze, hot and bothered and needy.

Before they knew it, their situation had somehow become desperate, with Clark on his back and Bruce riding him raw, tipping his hips forward in a way that was sure to make him sore tomorrow. Joker sat with legs splayed above Clark’s face, tossing his head back in a frantic attempt at regaining control, though Clark’s mouth worked around his length with a heat he could barely stand.

Clark’s voice gave a shuddery warning, and those electric eyes screwed tight. He sounded desperate, and all the strength he possessed was poured into his resulting moan. A strong man falling into the trap of seduction, pupils huge and skin hot, mouth open in confessionary moans as he orgasmed, uncontrollable and instinctive.

“I wouldn’t mind it if I could get a lay like this every week,” Joker commented lewdly, staring with hard focus down at him as he finished himself off, landing stripes of cum across Clark’s enraptured face.

Bruce, pale, blue eyed, strangely angelic in this light, shut his eyes at the strange sensation filling him. Past this (or because of it, he couldn’t be sure), he managed to find release as well. His shallow breaths escaped into the air, skin prickling with goosebumps and shame alike.

Clark did not seem to mind the attention, letting his fingers go from his stubbled jaw to his chest in sequence, feeling the hot paths of cum that the other two men had left behind.

“We made a mess,” Joker commented, already maneuvering to his end of the bed and curling up with his pillow.

“We did,” Clark agreed pleasantly, folding his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

Bruce sighed wearily. Perhaps a nap would do him good, too.

* * *

 

It was hours before they awakened and had to face what they’d done.

Bruce’s lips were raw and red, with bite marks scattered liberally across them. Joker, white as a sheet, bore marks red as fire across his chest and lower abdomen. Clark’s tan skin looked marvelously artistic coated in shiny, dry patches.

“Sorry about that,” Bruce apologized, embarrassed. He had to say _something_.

Clark could only seem to picture the way Bruce’s mouth opened to take him in the previous night, lips wrapped around his cock, which brushed against his throat like he was meant to take it. He barely gagged, but his eyes had watered, and god he could hardly resist.

He shook his head. “Ah, don’t mention it,” he replied, averting his gaze.

There was a long, strange silence before Joker broke it with a laugh as he shot to his knees and wrapped his arms around Bruce from behind. “You two are _fun!_ ” he exclaimed, completely disregarding the other two’s tense faces.

“I shouldn’t have intruded,” Clark said with a cough. “It’s your relationship, Bruce.”

“Oh, I, uh—” Bruce’s stammering was cut off by Joker whispering something into his ear, and the flush that resulted from the words crept all the way down to his hickey-bruised neck. “That’s not exactly public-approved.”

“It’s a new day and age, Brucie, baby,” Joker said by way of explanation.

Clark looked like a lost puppy. “Should I be concerned?” he asked, watching Bruce rub his jaw and cast his eyes toward the ceiling.

Joker only smiled at him; this, for obvious reasons, did not make him feel better. Finally, though, Bruce looked at him, mouth a thin line. “If you’d _like_ it to be your relationship, you’re more than welcome.”

Clark blinked. Still lost.

Joker’s grin melted into a self-satisfied smirk as he shuffled toward him on hands and knees. “What he means, _Super_ man,” he said, clicking his tongue with satisfaction, “is that we’re both very, very okay with you being boyfriend number three.”

Bruce scowled. “When you say it like that, it sounds worse.”

Ignoring him, Joker affixed Clark with a pleasant, less toothy smile than before. “What do you say, cutie? Are you in or are you in?”

Clark directed his eyes to Bruce, who was trying his damndest to pretend like he wasn't amused.

“Is that…” Clark ventured shyly, gesturing nebulously, “something humans usually… _do?_ ”

“Usually? No,” Bruce answered truthfully.

“But they _do_ ,” Joker asserted, poking him in the chest. “And, well, we could.”

“Who’s…dating whom?” Clark asked, cocking his head and squinting as he worked through his thoughts.

Bruce smiled fondly at him. “Well, it means we’re all together.”

“So you can smooch bat-breath as much as you want,” Joker said, fluttering his eyelashes pointedly, “as long as I can count on you to, say, fly me up to the top of the Metropolis spire every once in a while for some fun.”

“You two wouldn’t _mind_ that?” Clark asked when the idea finally seemed to click, dumbfounded and looking between them.

“Not at all. Take him,” Bruce joked, grinning smugly when Joker shot a glare his way.

“Very funny, _sweetheart_ ,” Joker hissed. He did an emotional one-eighty as he pressed himself against Clark’s front, looking suddenly perfectly sweet and civil. “Well, _you’re_ the sweet one, cutie.”

Clark wasn’t sure where to put his hands. “I, well, I—”

“You can say no,” Bruce reminded him gently. “Joker’s just a little pushy sometimes.”

“Excuse me!” Joker said. “It’s just a nice prospect to have a _gentleman_ in the threads.”

Bruce laughed, surprising the other two. They regarded him for a moment until he caught on, which is when he cleared his throat and gestured to the door. “So, ah, I’m going to get Alfred started on breakfast.”

“Lunch,” Joker corrected, glancing at the alarm clock. “What’s the verdict, Supes?”

Clark cast a goofy grin first at one, then at the other. “I think it sounds fantastic.”

Joker curled a strand of his hair coquettishly but was nudged out of the way by Bruce’s approaching musculature. “Hey!” he objected, throwing a pout his way as Bruce leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of Clark’s mouth.

“Glad to have you aboard,” he said, toneless but well-meaning all the same.

Clark and Joker watched him put his feet to the floor and stretch, then exchanged knowing glances. “Lunch can wait,” the latter declared, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

Clark’s hand appeared on his other shoulder seconds later, and Bruce could practically feel the energetic smile. “I think he’s right,” he said, prompting Bruce to roll his eyes.

“You two are incorrigible,” he muttered.

“Is that a no?” Joker asked.

“I never said that,” Bruce answered.

And that was that.


End file.
